


Hearts Like Ours

by verbaepulchellae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy loves Clarke's Good Earth Cleavage, Clarke loves Bellamy's hands, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Life Affirming Happy Sex, Maybe the sappiest thing I've written since the end of Picking Up, Slightly established relationship, a light touch of emotions, it all works out, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: Clarke catches Bellamy watching her and her smile goes a little mischievous, eyebrows lifting and mouth twisting in the way Bellamy recognizes as Clarke feeling like she has an edge. “You need something from me?”
There’s a lilt to her voice that conjures up a musty bunker and Clarke, beautiful and still a stranger next to him even as she cocks her head and waits on him to make good on his posturing; it summons firelight and Clarke’s laughter and clever eyes holding both a challenge and a half formed invitation.
It calls on an old, half forgotten feeling of want in Bellamy, the one that pulls deeper, more viscerally than from how much he loves Clarke, down into something natural, a tug in his stomach, a heat that unfurls and makes his hands itch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for storyskein who wanted some happy fucking. Do you know how hard that is to pull of with Bellarke? It's so hard. But I hope it fits the bill.
> 
> And thank you to my lovely beta raincityruckus for all her help despite her allergic reaction to emotions.

It’s all led to this. Clarke is smiling, that real smile of hers that fills her face, makes her cheeks extra round and her eyes squint with the force of it, and even with the coast stretching out in front them, the first land they’ve seen in weeks and a safe harbor at that... she’s looking at him. It thrills something deep in Bellamy’s stomach, sparks something in his chest and he only hears what Clarke says after, her voice lingering in the air. “ _We did it, Bellamy.”_

And they have. Their people, skaikru and grounders alike, are safe. There are still plants burning out there in the world, but they’ve buried the closest ones and they’ve found a safe home to live, for generations even. They’re safer than they’ve ever been in their lives, and all Bellamy can do is smile back at Clarke, relieved and honest and a little unbelieving that they’ve made it. Clarke reaches for his hand and Bellamy takes it without thinking: that’s what they do.

“We did it,” Clarke says again, looking out across the deck of their ship, their home for the last month and a half, across the water and toward the towering green trees, full of promises and new life. She looks so beautiful, so relieved, her face open with it, and for the first time Bellamy can remember in a long while, there’s real, true happiness laid bare. 

Bellamy feels a little like he’s had the breath knocked out of him, can’t bring himself to look away from Clarke. Because, yeah, he knows he’s been Clarke’s person when it’s hard, that she’s needed him as much as he’s needed her, but this open, giddy relief... they’ve never found the space for that between them before. That she wants to share this with him as well makes something clench in Bellamy’s chest even as it feels broken open.

Clarke catches Bellamy watching her and her smile goes a little mischievous, eyebrows lifting and mouth twisting in the way Bellamy recognizes as Clarke feeling like she has an edge. “You need something from me?”

There’s a lilt to her voice that conjures up a musty bunker and Clarke, beautiful and still a stranger next to him even as she cocks her head and waits on him to make good on his posturing; it summons firelight and Clarke’s laughter and clever eyes holding both a challenge and a half formed invitation.

It calls on an old, half forgotten feeling of _want_ in Bellamy, the one that pulls deeper, more viscerally than from how much he loves Clarke, down into something natural, a tug in his stomach, a heat that unfurls and makes his hands itch. It meets that vulnerable, thrilled feeling in Bellamy’s chest and seeps into it as Clarke’s eyes drop to Bellamy’s mouth and yeah, he wants something from her. Wants something for them.

“Maybe.” Bellamy rubs his thumb across the back of Clarke’s hand, slow, not the soft brushes he’s given her in the past, but something hot and questioning and promising in its pressure and lingering drag. “You offering me something?”

Clarke’s eyes flash and he’s said the right thing because now Clarke’s leaning a little closer to him, voice pitched low as she looks up at him and says, “Whatever the hell you want.”

Being Clarke, or maybe just because it’s them and they aren’t as cool as they like to think they are, she ruins it by laughing. It’s such a light sound, girlish and Bellamy thinks she’s laughing at a lot of things: his expression which he knows has gone stupid, her own ridiculousness… and interlaced with all of that, there’s a ring of true, unbridled delight, because they’re here and they’re alive and always, always together.

There’s nothing for it, then, but to catch Clarke around the waist and pull her close, fitting his mouth over hers and tasting her laughter. Clarke wraps her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his neck and kisses him back, really kisses him, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

It’s at once familiar and so new, so unlike those quick, uncertain kisses they’ve shared in the past. Those had been fine, had been all they’d had space for, like the one after Clarke found him, holed up in the hull of their exodus ship the night they’d set sail, alone and feeling as worthless as he ever has. 

That her quiet affirmations had turned into a hug hadn’t been all that surprising. Bellamy had appreciated, needed it. The hard, fast handjob that followed had been a surprise if not an unpleasant one. Bellamy’d buried his face in Clarke’s neck, panting and hardly believing it was Clarke’s hand wrapped around his cock, pulling at him with such certainty; Clarke giving him soft encouragement; Clarke’s chapped lips brushing his open mouth as he came down.

A week later had seen Clarke is tears, three people dead in a storm and after Bellamy sat with her, listened to her punish herself for everything that had gone wrong in the last twelve hours, he’d managed to urge Clarke back on the bed, get her leggings down low enough to cup her cunt in his hand and work out a gentle circle of fingers against her clit that made her shiver and hiccup. 

Routine wasn’t something they had been afforded since they landed on Earth, not since those early days at the dropship that seemed almost golden in retrospect, but this comfort had become a ritual.

They drank together in the evenings; they shared their fears and their shame and, when they were too drunk to stop themselves, their hopes. And sometimes, after all of that, when words and the physical comfort of hands intertwined or hugs with noses tucked into necks didn’t chase away their darkest corners, Bellamy tugged Clarke’s hips to the edge of his bed and fit his mouth over her cunt, or Clarke would back him up against the table in his room and drop to her knees. 

It’d never been reciprocated in the span of one evening, because Bellamy thinks, it’d have been too real, too much _them_ and not the simple physicality that they needed. When it was one offs, with names being muffled into hands or swallowed before they met air, hands clenched on thighs rather than in soft curls, rather than letting fingers tremble over cheekbones and ears, it was just comfort: just mouths and hands and pleasure when nice things were so uncommon.

But now… now Clarke is really kissing him, meeting the soft suggestion of his tongue with her own, her giggles turning into a low, happy sound against his mouth and it’s wet and hot and he can feel the soft curves of her breasts and thighs pressed against him and suddenly he’s laughing.

Clarke pulls back, just barely, her forehead resting against his, her fingers still gripping the back of his neck like she can’t imagine letting him get away from her. “What?”

“You,” Bellamy murmurs, loving that he can run his hands down her sides and _feel_ her because something unspoken has gone between them and it’s okay. They have a future, a certainty that has never been so real and all the reasons that kept them from making this more than best friends, confidents and co-leaders feels like it’s swept away with the wind that’s buffeting Clarke’s hair. Bellamy brushes her short hair back and smiles when he can see her face again. “You are ridiculous.”

“You like it,” Clarke accuses him and tilts her chin up again so that Bellamy has to kiss her, just has to when her breath fans across his mouth and he can feel her smile under his lips so that it warms his whole body. 

“I do,” Bellamy says, but he thinks it’s probably lost between their mouths, because kissing Clarke like this, the way he hasn’t ever let himself, out in public on the deck and hope vibrating through them both is too good to stop to tell her things she already knows. 

There’s a whoop from down below, maybe a few that they don’t hear at first because there’s laughter when they turn toward it, Clarke’s hands unapologetically still holding tight to him. Raven and Jasper are on the lower deck, shouting up to them about fireworks and moonshine and staying up all night, Monty yelling at them to not talk over each other from where he’s sitting on stacked cargo, Harper leaning back between his legs and grinning up at them. Miller’s laughing with his arm slung around Bryan’s shoulders and Octavia’s even lingering on the edge of their group, her lips pressed together like being seventeen and happy to be alive is beneath her.

“You want to join them?” Clarke mumbles against his mouth.

“Could,” Bellamy says, nosing his way along her cheek so he can put his nose in her ear and likes that it makes her squirm. “Unless we come up with something better.”

“I mean,” Clarke mumbles as she rocks back on her heels. “I was thinking that I could fuck you, if that counts as better.”

“Jesus, Clarke,” Bellamy chokes and ducks his forehead to press against hers, hot from how blunt she is, hot from how much he wants that. “Yeah, I would say that definitely does.”

“Oh good,” Clarke laughs, voice gone low and teasing and shit, Bellamy hadn’t realized how much he wanted Clarke, really wanted her, until just now. Clarke grins at him, and then leans over the rail to call to their friends. “We’ll catch up with you. Later. Come on.” The last part is said only for Bellamy, and Clarke catches his hand and pulls him with her, both of them half stumbling into each other like they’re drunk. “I know a place.”

She thinks she’s so cool, she _knows a place_ , and Bellamy lets her be all cocky and smart as their friends laughter and cat calls follow them back into the ship, lets her lead him until they’re halfway down the hall to his room, deserted and out of the way. With the creak of the ship and soft home of the machinery around them, he cages her into a wall, presses up against her from behind so that he can ghost his breath along her neck and kiss at the skin right behind her ear. 

Clarke braces her hands against the wall and it leaves Bellamy enough room to snake a hand around her front and palm one of her breasts, feel the weight of it in a way he’s never allowed himself to before. 

“Damn, Clarke,” he breathes in her ear as she leans back into him. “You feel good, babe.” He says it before he can think it through, the affection ready in his mouth before his mind catches up, but it makes Clarke shiver against him and she arches a bit, giving him an insanely good view of how hot her tits are. He gives her a squeeze and she moans, soft. “You like my hands on you?” 

“Yeah,” Clarke says, twisting around a bit so she can try to kiss Bellamy. She’s still smiling uncontrollably under his mouth, even as he slides his hand down her stomach and works it into her pants to cup her cunt, and if he’s a little possessive about it, he can’t help himself. “I really, really like your hands.”

“Could have fooled me,” he teases her and gets a huffed breath against his face for being cocky. He rocks his hips forward into her ass so she can feel him too, how much he likes having his hands on her body. Clarke’s breath stutters and then she wiggles against him. Bellamy has to groan into her neck, starts laughing halfway through because Clarke is so devious and he should have seen this coming from Clarke fucking Griffin, who has never been able to let herself be one up’ed in her life. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke complains when he rocks his hand against her. “I want to fuck you.”

“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” Bellamy laughs. “How are you so demanding already, huh?”

“I mean, I think you know how much of a handful I can be.” Clarke is grinning over her shoulder at him, dorky and pleased with her really bad double entendre. Bellamy wants to kiss the smile off her face, or maybe wants to kiss it into place, because Clarke should always look like that. This is how all beautiful girls should look: clever and happy and like they have everything they want. 

“I think I’m beginning to learn all the ways you can be,” Bellamy can’t resist making his own terrible joke back at her and Clarke laughs, really laughs, leaning her head forward into the wall and ending with a sigh as Bellamy kisses her neck. It takes Herculean effort, but Bellamy manages to pull his hand away from Clarke’s cunt, despite how hot she is, how she’s beginning to get wet for him. If his mouth waters at the memory of how she tastes, like the brine of the sea and a tang of something citric, well, he’s only human. 

Clarke whines at the loss of his hand, contradictory, and Bellamy chuckles, squeezes her hips instead and bites down on the tendon in her shoulder. “Come on, Clarke, I know a place.”

“Stealing my line,” Clarke huffs and turns to shove at Bellamy’s shoulder, pushes back hard enough that Bellamy stumbles a little, because goddamn, Clarke is strong but she’s chasing after him and fitting herself up close again, steadying him, as she always does. “Tell you a secret?” She says it against his mouth, lips right there wanting to be kissed and Bellamy wants to bite them. He smoothes a hand over her hair instead, feeling how soft and light it is, curls his fingers in the ends of it where it just barely brushes her neck.

“As long as it’s not another saving the world secret,” Bellamy says and can’t help the way his chest feels like it’s going to crack open because it makes Clarke laugh again as she puts her face in the junction of his neck and shoulder, the vibration of it making goosebumps rise under her mouth. 

“It’s not, I promise.” She says it right against his skin, punctuates it with a kiss and Bellamy can’t help but groan and little and squeeze the back of her neck. “I just… I’m happy.”

And god, only Clarke Griffin would feel like she needed to keep that a secret. He gets it, after everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve done, the right to happiness feels fraught. But, Bellamy thinks as he tugs her back from where she’s tucked her face and kisses her again, making sure she feels his own grin, if anyone deserves to feel happy, it’s Clarke.

“You don’t say,” he teases her and feels her shiver when he runs his fingers along her collarbone, one of those spots he’s wanted to touch for so long. Clarke laughs a little but when she looks up at him, he thinks part of her is looking for condemnation. He will give her anything, but he won’t give her that. 

He thumbs her lower lip down instead as he leans in for another kiss, so he can make it kind of deep and filthy, keeps them hot so they don’t find themselves slipping down to heavier emotions and words that will have to come, but not now. 

Right now, he’s going to fuck Clarke. He’s going to get her all spread out underneath him, soft skin and callouses alike, pink mouth and hot cunt and pretty tits…. And just, Clarke. Clarke, who he’s only been able to be sweet to under the guise of quick orgasms: fast, impersonal comfort. Now he can take his time with her, now he can feel her and love on her and they get to be more than just giving the other what they need. They get to be what the other wants.

Clarke’s mouth is so hot, such a tease even as Bellamy pushes at her a little to get her walking because he’s not sure how much longer he can keep his hands off her, really off her, and they’re so close to his room. Clarke huffs and shoots him a grin as she lets him guide her, being unhelpful in an entirely Clarke like-fashion by twisting around to unzip his jacket for him, and she stumbles in her distraction. “Can’t do anything with you,” Bellamy mutters, but gets her into his room and Clarke just looks exceptionally pleased with herself. He loves it, Jesus, he loves it. 

Clarke’s already pulling off the fingerless gloves she wears to protect her hands from the rigging, already beginning to unbutton the loose white shirt she wears which Jasper says makes her look like some sort of pirate. She flicks her eyes up at Bellamy, but her goofy smile ruins her play at being coy. Bellamy can’t help himself when he snorts, giddy with Clarke’s happiness and the fact that this is finally, really happening between them. It sets off Clarke giggling again, even as the V of her shirt gets deeper and deeper, and Bellamy can’t resist her.

“Come here,” Bellamy says, contradicting himself by closing the distance between them, still laughing and Clarke grins, tilting her face up and kissing Bellamy’s jaw as he takes over for her, the small buttons slipping through the fabric as he works his way down the shirt, knuckles brushing across Clarke’s stomach. “You think you picked a shirt with enough detailing, Clarke?”

“Much comfier than a corset.” Clarke shrugs and it makes her tits move, makes Bellamy just abandon the job half done so he can get his hands into her shirt and touch the smooth skin of her sides, slide his hands around her ribs to find the back clasp of her bra and fumble as Clarke runs her own hands up Bellamy’s arms. “Comfier than your jacket,” she says slyly as she reaches his shoulders and tugs at the collar. “I’ll even help you with that clasp if you take this off.”

“Like I need help,” Bellamy argues because he can, but disentangles himself from Clarke and gets out of his jacket, goes a little dumb as Clarke shrugs out of her shirt so that it pools at her waist and her bra goes loose over her tits. “Jesus,” Bellamy breathes and has to pull her close again. He guides the straps of her bra down her shoulders and arms, tosses it from them because Clarke Griffin is the prettiest thing he’s seen, bare from the hips up and tugging on his shirt, grinning at him like they’re getting away with something.

Bellamy lets her strip him out of his shirt before he’s kissing her again, one hand in her hair, keeping her close and the other running up her back. She feels so good under his hands, so hot and soft where it counts, and he drags his hand down her front, palm wide and flat so he can feel both of her tits, feel how tight her nipples have gotten. Her soft little sigh is the best thing he’s ever heard, until she somehow manages to giggle and gasp at the same time as Bellamy drags his hand over her lower belly, and that has to be it.

“Your hands are so big,” Clarke says, her own hands running down his chest and they feel good, just having her touch him feels so good.

“Yeah?” Bellamy laughs a little, pulling her close and spanning his hands across her back, watching as she smiles, eyes going dark and hot. “Never knew you had a thing for my hands, Clarke.”

“I have a thing about all of you,” Clarke admits and fuck, that’s hot. Bellamy walks her backwards, not wanting to let her go and making her giggle as he bites at her jaw. If he pushes her a little roughly onto his bed, he can’t help himself and Clarke just lets herself fall back, reaches up for him, grinning, to scratch her nails across his abs. “Pants?” She bites her lip as she says it and her fingers flirt across the button at the waist, pop it open, and Bellamy knows what she wants.

“You first,” he insists, catching her hand and looming over her to get her to lie back. “You think I’m gonna miss out on seeing you because you’ve got it in your head you want to suck my cock?” 

“I can try.” Clarke sounds smug as she wiggles under him, makes her tits bounce in a way that’s entirely too distracting. Bellamy ducks his head and manages to give her a quick kiss before he has to get his mouth on her. Her nipple is so sweet in his mouth, peaked and tight, and when he tugs it between his lips Clarke’s fingers shake into his hair and fist with a sharp, satisfying pain. He looks up at her, not letting her go, just lashing his tongue over her and Clarke bites her lip, flushed, as she tugs on him.

“Yeah?” Bellamy asks in the space it takes to switch tits. “You like this?”

“Feels so good,” Clarke whispers, her voice faltering as he latches back on to her and presses a hand into her back so that she’s arched into him. There’s a soft, hot peace that comes from working Clarke’s tits over in his mouth, it makes him want to spend all day here, giving her this easy pleasure, listening to her breath hitch. “I- Bellamy,” Clarke whines when he closes his teeth on her, biting harder until Clarke moans and then he gives her another tug. “Fuck.”

Bellamy reaches for a pillow so that he can heft Clarke up the bed and settle her, her short hair fanning prettily across his pillows, her legs falling open for him when he taps her thigh. He sits back on his knees between her legs and he runs his hands down her side to stroke over her stomach. “Fucking hot,” he tells her, and watches her smile, fond of him. He presses down gently and runs his hands back up her, thumbs giving her enough pressure and palms flat and wide so Clarke can really feel him. “You gonna to tell me what you want, Clarke?”

“Does it have to be more specific than ‘you’?” Clarke laughs a little shakily and reaches down to cover Bellamy’s hand with her own. Her skin is pale in contrast to his own, her hand so small and he turns his wrist so that he can hold her hand in his palm. God, he just wants to be sweet on her. 

“Can be whatever you want,” he says, circling his thumb over her knuckles. “But if you leave it up to me, I’m just going to play with your tits. How come you never told me they were so pretty, huh?”

“You knew,” Clarke laughs, mouth red from her own biting. 

“Hm, maybe,” Bellamy agrees, because for all of the very hard Not Looking he’s done in the time he’s known Clarke, Clarke’s tits can’t not be noticed. They’re so beautiful: full and soft with large, pretty nipples that are flushed from his mouth. Bellamy strokes his hands over them again, squeezes carefully and smiles a little at Clarke’s breathy laugh. “I’ll admit, it’s nice to have it confirmed.”

The graze of his thumbs over her peaked nipples makes Clarke’s breath hitch and Bellamy looks up at her face, can’t help it that his expression goes soft at the way Clarke looks so at peace, her forehead unwrinkled, mouth loose and easy, eyes half-lidded. She smiles at him and arches up; Bellamy takes the hint and squeezes her tits again. 

“That feels… really good,” Clarke whispers, almost like she’s shy about it and Bellamy doesn’t want that. 

“Yeah?” He leans down and kisses one nipple and then the other, nothing more than a little affection for her, just because he can now and Clarke makes a sweet sound in her throat, lifts her arms overhead so he can get better access to her. Fuck, she looks so good, Bellamy can’t help groaning. “Shit, Clarke. You know how much I like just touching you like this?”

Clarke laughs a little, looking happy and relaxed and pleased even as she settles deeper into the bed under his hands. “You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but you like it.” 

“I do,” Clarke says quietly and she smiles at him, arches up again and Bellamy hums at her. 

Making Clarke come is fun and he likes that he knows her cunt well enough now that he’s gotten the fast, quick orgasm down pat. Flat tongue, wet mouth, keep his lips suctioned on to her clit… but he likes these little things too. How Clarke likes to be kissed and how she sounds when she’s unself-consciously feeling good, voice soft and breathy. How she likes to be touched when there’s no other motive than just enjoying each other... how she’ll feel coming around his cock.

Bellamy has to shake that thought out of his head, because that will come, but this first. 

Bellamy squeezes her tits again and then tugs her nipples between his thumb and forefingers, rolls them and watches Clarke’s face. She bites her lip again and that kills him, makes him lean forward and kiss her, slipping his tongue into her mouth to nibble on instead and Clarke gives it a slow suck, lazy, arms dropping to loop around his neck. Bellamy pinches her harder than intended at the feeling, her slick tongue along his so damn good and Clarke whimpers, body shuddering under his.

“Sorry,” he whispers against her mouth and just covers her tits in his palms, soothing, trying to gentle her with the warmth of them. “That hurt?”

“No, I liked it,” Clarke murmurs and bites teasingly at his mouth. Bellamy nips back at her and Clarke does that little gigglegasp again that makes Bellamy kiss her hard. Clarke moans and wiggles under him, her hands lacing in his hair to keep him close and then squeezing his neck, running down his back and across his sides. Bellamy shivers, ticklish and can’t help laughing a little when Clarke’s fingers dig in, trying to get to him and they both end up giggling like teenagers. Bellamy has to abandon Clarke’s tits and get her hands off him before he really embarrasses himself. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, Clarke,” Bellamy teases her, caging both of her wrists in one hand to keep himself safe, grinning at her as she tugs without a lot of intention. “Why you trying to distract me?”

“Because I can.” Clarke looks proud of that fact, still playfully tugging against him, proving her point because yeah, Bellamy is thoroughly distracted by how hot she looks, goofy and tits bare and laughing like this is something they just do. And he wants that, he wants this to go from ritual to routine like nothing else.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bellamy admits. “You’ve got that right.” He settles his palm right between her breasts, just touching her and Clarke sighs and lets her head flop back on the pillow again, quieting under his touch. Bellamy’s heart hurts with how much he loves her. “You feeling good, Clarke?”

“Yeah,” Clarke whispers, looking happy and when Bellamy lets go of her wrists she reaches up to run her fingers over his mouth. Bellamy kisses at them which makes Clarke smile. “Tell you another secret?” And when he rolls his eyes and nods: “I like that you like my tits so much. It, um, it gets me wet.”

“Holy fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy grunts, a little dazed. “Does it, babe?”

“It does,” Clarke laughs, looking pleased with herself. “Your hands feel so good, Bellamy. And your mouth.” She thumbs over his lower lip again and Bellamy feels lightheaded with it. 

“That’s fucking hot, Clarke,” He tells her and gets his hands on the waistband of her leggings, tugging until Clarke gets with the program and lifts her hips so he can shimmy them down her legs, dragging her loose shirt down her hips as well. He’s never gotten her completely naked and bare for him before, and the sight of her, pale, pink and gold almost does him in entirely. “Shit, Clarke. What do you want? Anything, babe. Anything you want.”

His hands are already back on her, running up her thighs, brushing his thumb over her clit lightly, just because he can, before stroking them up her stomach, over her tits again to feather his fingers along her collarbones and shoulders, a little lost in how beautiful she is and the freedom he has to touch. 

“I want your mouth back on my tits,” Clarke says, grinning. She looks up at him, body so relaxed and easy in front of him, confident in herself and not shy at all about that fact that he’s kneeling between her spread legs. She turns her head when he runs his hand up her neck to thumb at her cheek and licks his thumb. 

“You fucking tease,” he growls as he drops down to brace himself on his forearm and mimics the move on her nipple so that Clarke’s breath shudders against his wet thumb. “How about you show me how you want my mouth on your tits, huh?” 

Bellamy smiles against Clarke’s skin when she smoothes his hair back so she can see his eyes. He butts his face against her, rubs his cheek against her tits so she can feel the light stubble there and Clarke’s eyes darken and she sucks Bellamy’s thumb into her mouth. 

He knows what Clarke’s mouth feels like on his cock, how good she is with suction and how hot and soft it is, but her tongue curling around the pad of his thumb, teasing at the edges of his callouses gets Bellamy hot in an entirely new way. He pulls Clarke’s nipple back into his mouth and mimics what her tongue is doing, gives her long, slow draws of his mouth as she gets hungrier and jesus, she looks so good with his hand framing her jaw, his thumb deep in her mouth. 

Bellamy can’t help the way he growls against her at the sight and Clarke’s hand tightens in his hair again and her hips buck up, her moan muffled by his thumb. Her cunt just brushes his abs and fuck, she’s so wet. Bellamy shifts so he can stretch out on his side next to her without taking his mouth off her tits and catches her left hand where she’s fisted it in the bed spread.

“Show me,” Bellamy says drawing her hand down her body to settle right on her cunt. “Show me how you like to touch yourself when you’re feeling good, Clarke.” Clarke’s fingers feel hesitant under his hand, not as quick to start as Bellamy had thought she might be, and he looks up at her, cautious, gently pulling his thumb from her mouth and running it along her bottom lip instead. “This okay?”

“It’s…. It’s been a while,” Clarke admits softly. “Sometimes it’s hard to… to focus.” 

Bellamy hums sympathetically and leans up to kiss her. It doesn’t shock him that Clarke hasn’t found it in her to be good to herself. Getting off alone is always harder, the dark thoughts often too persistent to get into the stroke of his hand on his cock, and he can imagine Clarke plagued by the same fears, the same insecurities that steal the simple, easy pleasure of her fingers on her cunt. 

“S’ok,” Bellamy whispers against her mouth. “I’m here to help.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says with almost wonder in her voice. “You are.” She leans up to steal a kiss and sighs again, so content under his mouth and when Bellamy lets her go, her fingers are making small circles over her clit, already slick with how wet she is and that’s so hot. Bellamy ducks his head back down and gets his mouth on her tits, watching the movement of her fingers, happy with the way her tits fill his mouth and her soft, quiet whimpers fill his chest.

Clarke’s blushing down her chest when Bellamy switches between her breasts again and he smiles at her, running a hand down her leg so that he can feel the movement of her hand against his forearm. “Fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke swears when he can’t help himself and traces his fingers over hers feeling how wet she is and how swollen she’s gotten.

“How are you feeling?” he half murmurs at her, pulling off her tits to ghost his breath across them and Clarke actually shivers. “Come on, Clarke. Talk to me.”

“This is good. It’s so good,” Clarke whimpers, voice gone in a way Bellamy’s never heard it before he can’t help his pleased smirk and sinks his teeth into the curve of her breast. “I want…” Clarke trails off, her forehead creasing and Bellamy feels her fingers speed up under his own. “I want your fingers.”

“How?” Bellamy pushes her, because she sounds so hot, so pleased with this even as she wants more.

“Fucking me,” Clarke says and Bellamy muffles his _fuck_ , into her skin. He catches her smirk and god, he can’t get over Clarke, this girl who’s happiness make her look young the way he forgets they both are sometimes. Bellamy squeezes her fingers in his hand before he slips lower and slides against her labia, against where her cunt is just so slick. Clarke’s moan is breathy and soft and a little pleading, and christ, Bellamy can’t deny her when she sounds so good. He gives her one finger, because they’ve never done this before either.

“Oh fuck,” Clarke breathes as Bellamy sinks his finger in deep, right to the final knuckle. “That’s so… is that just one?” She loses it right after she asks and giggles into his pillow, making Bellamy smile against her, he loves her laughter. 

“It’s just one.”

Clarke shakes on the bed, her laughter infectious enough that Bellamy feels like he has to hide his smile in her body because it’s so big. “You’re going to kill me,” Clarke giggles. “‘Just one’, oh my god, Bellamy.”

“You can take them, huh, Clarke?” he teases her, mostly because he knows Clarke likes to be given a challenge. “However many you want, we’ll get you there.”

“Oh, fuck.” Clarke’s giggles peter off and she sighs, clenching down on his finger. “God, Bellamy,” she gasps. “I want them so much.”

“Keep touching yourself,” Bellamy whispers and Clarke moans a soft _yeah_ and gets her fingers back to work, a little more frantic in their grind against her clit. Bellamy turns his wrist carefully, letting his knuckle rub up against Clarke so that she gasps and her legs tense. “Easy, Clarke,” Bellamy soothes her. “Easy, we’ve got time.”

Bellamy gives her tits a break and settles his free arm over her head, curling his hand into her hair and kissing her open mouth. “Tell me when you want more,” he breathes against her lips, and Clarke grips at his arm with her free hand.

He rocks his finger into her, crooking it a little and Clarke turns her head, trying to find his mouth again. Bellamy lets her kiss him as desperately as she needs, keeps his mouth gentle as Clarke shivers, the slick sound of their fingers seem loud in the room. Bellamy is so hard, so fucking hot watching them both work up Clarke, but he can wait. He wants to see Clarke come, wants to see it on her face and feel her body shake against his own as they share this, make it mean something more.

“Another, Bellamy. I want another.” Clarke whines, her hips rocking up into Bellamy’s hand, into her own fingers. 

“Yeah? You want two of them?” Bellamy props himself up so he can look down Clarke’s body as he pulls his finger out and runs his index finger along her cunt, getting it wet. He pushes back in, as slowly as he can, the stretch of two fingers making Clarke tense up and then give him a high, desperate noise in her throat. Fuck, she looks so good, her arousal all over her thighs and her fingers, Bellamy’s own fingers disappearing into her pink cunt. _They_ look good together, he thinks a little blearily, the contrast of their skin and Clarke’s soft curves against his own lean, muscular build. 

Clarke is squirming with it and Bellamy rocks his fingers up into her, letting them drag inside her so that Clarke suddenly gasps and bucks up, her fingers freezing on her clit. “Fuck, right there,” she demands, and goddamn, she sounds so good. 

“Right there,” he promises. “Right there, babe. You got it.” He fucks into her with his fingers, makes sure he grinds up into her and Clarke gets so wet around him, so needy in how she works herself down on him, fingers on her cunt just along for the ride.

“More?” Clarke gasps and Bellamy groans into her neck. Clarke was right, she’s a handful and it’s driving Bellamy crazy.

“Gotta keep touching yourself, Clarke,” Bellamy whispers as he slides his fingers out and teases her by fucking just his ring finger into her to get it wet. Clarke grips his arm like she wants to hold it still and he tugs on her hair, because patience is a virtue and one Clarke has yet to master. 

“You want three? Help me out here,” he encourages her again because Clarke’s hand is nearly falling away from her cunt, so distracted and greedy for Bellamy’s fingers inside her.

“Ok,” Clarke breathes and she fits her fingers back over her clit. “I want them, Bellamy.”

“I know you do,” Bellamy whispers. “Show me how much.”

Clarke’s little whimper when she presses back down on her clit turns into a hurt, happy sound as Bellamy pushes back into her with three fingers and god, she’s so tight and the way she arches, shit. Bellamy has to hide his face in her neck for a moment because she looks so good, eyes squeezed shut, tits flushed and right there for him with the way her back bends off the bed, her cunt full of him.

“It’s so- you’re so-” Clarke pants as Bellamy tentatively twists his wrist to find the spot she liked so much. He knows he hits it again when Clarke’s body goes rigid and her breath sounds like it’s knocked out of her lungs. He keeps his fingers sweet and certain inside her, and if he gets a little mean with how hard he gives it to her when he ducks his head back down and sucks her nipple back into his mouth, it’s only because Clarke’s not making words anymore, just fucking down on his fingers desperately.

Clarke shudders all over, fingers slowly down again until Bellamy tries to match his mouth to how Clarke’s fingers move and then she goes for it, a hard, rough rub on herself that Bellamy echoes with his tongue lashing over her tight nipple. When she pinches her own clit, Bellamy bites at her and Clarke’s whole body goes still for a moment, her breath caught in her throat, before her cunt contracts, sharp and sweet on Bellamy’s fingers. 

“That’s it.” Bellamy sounds hoarse to himself when he lets her nipple slide off his tongue and lifts his head to kiss her. “That’s what you needed, huh, Clarke?” She’s whining still, trembling as she chases the feeling of her orgasm, fingers desperate and sloppy on herself, just the way he wanted them to be. Bellamy noses at her cheek to offer her a little relief and counterpoint to how hard she’s coming on his hand and he can’t help himself when he adds: “So sweet, Clarke. That was so good.”

Clarke’s eyes are closed, face flushed and a little shiny with sweat, but she laughs at his words, breathy and sounding so happy. “God, Bellamy. Come here,” she gropes for him blindly and Bellamy lets her wet fingers find his neck and tug him into place to kiss her. Her kisses are lazy and unfocused but Bellamy loves it, loves how warm it is, how gentle he can be with her while she’s distracted. 

Clarke doesn’t stay fucked out for very long. Bellamy’s fingers still inside her clearly too much for her to pass up on. She rocks down against him, slow and he can still feel the soft aftershocks of how good they made her feel trembling through her, making her pulse around his fingers. When she clenches down purposefully on him again Bellamy can’t help biting her lip at how tight she gets.

“You’re still in me,” Clarke says in between kisses. 

“I am,” Bellamy chuckles. “Too much?”

“Not enough.” 

Bellamy groans and has to drop his forehead against hers as Clarke’s hands slide down his body and find his still unbuttoned pants. Her hand sneaks in and god, he hadn’t realized how hard he is until Clarke grips him. Bellamy hisses when she squeezes him, swears when she trails her fingers down his cock and then pulls him out of his pants, her thumb brushing such a light tease across the head of his dick. She gives him a long, slow stroke, fingers firm and good around him, pulling back his foreskin as her hand slides down his cock and then gives him a hard, sweet pull back to the tip. It’s so good, it’s too good and not enough all at once. He’s had Clarke’s hands, he’s had her mouth. He needs to fuck her.

“I gotta-” Bellamy pants against her neck as Clarke jerks him off lazily, fingers slick with her own arousal, twisting her wrist when she reaches the head of his cock, corkscrewing her palm over it, smearing the precum at the tip. “I gotta fuck you, Clarke. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me to fuck your pretty cunt?”

“And not my tits?” Clarke teases him, biting at his jaw and that’s a thought, Clarke’s gorgeous tits pressed together around his cock, her fingers laced together over her nipples to keep them tight for him... 

“Jesus,” Bellamy growls, catching Clarke’s wrist and pulling it away from him because it’s too much, god, it’s too much. “Clarke, you’re going to kill me, babe.” 

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” Clarke says, proud and pleased at provoking him, giggling as he gets her back down against the bed and nips at her neck, her tits, pushing her thighs apart with his knees so he’s back between them again, and they’re both grinning like idiots as Bellamy rubs his cock, quick and not enough, against her cunt to get it wet. “Not when we’ve made it this far.”

“Definitely not,” Bellamy agrees, pinching a nipple and teasing at slipping his cock into her. They’re hovering on that jagged edge of emotion again, between giddy and in memoriam and Bellamy won’t let them fall back into their past. Not now. Now when they’re alive and have a future, and he’s about to fuck Clarke Griffin. There’s only room for joy here. “What do you think, Clarke?” he goads he gently. “You want my cock?”

“ _Yes,”_ Clarke moans, bucking her hips up against him. “You gotta- oh _fuck_ , Bellamy,” Clarke moans as he catches her hips and pushes in, just so that the head of his cock slides into her, and then again, “Fuck. Bellamy.”

“You are, babe,” Bellamy teases her, and rocks his hips so that he pushes deeper and Clarke grabs at him, giving him that gigglegasp _again_ so that Bellamy loses himself for a moment and can’t help but fuck into her hard. 

_Oh,_ Clarke moans, fingers digging into his shoulders. And it’s all _wethotperfect_ , Clarke’s hips bucking up into him, fucking herself on his cock before he knows anything more than the fact that he’s inside her and goddamn, he’s going to have to make her come again, there’s nothing else for it. He’s going to make her come laughing and whining with how good he makes her feel, because the sight of Clarke happy and feeling good can’t be beat. 

Bellamy gives her a few sharp snaps of his hips, filling her up each time, and then grinds deep into her so that Clarke thrashes against the bed, her nails raking down his back, stinging sweet, and Bellamy grips her hair and rolls into her deep, her cunt so tight and good around him.

“Oh yes,” Clarke whimpers. “This is so good. Bellamy, please. Please.”

“You feel unbelievable, Clarke. Un-fucking-believable,” Bellamy tells her, fitting his teeth along her jaw and Clarke whines. “How’d we wait so long to do this, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke moans. “I want it, I want it, I want it.” 

“Jesus, babe. Christ. Come on, Come on up here and get it.” Bellamy rocks back onto his heels and hauls Clarke up so that she’s draped over his lap, arms clinging to his neck and shoulders. Clarke gasps as she sinks deeper onto him and then gets with the program and fucks down on him, rocks her hips messy and rough, making his cock bump right where she wants it inside her. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke gasps, scrabbling at his back, sounding overwhelmed.

“I know, I know,” Bellamy murmurs and fists his hand in her hair so that he can hold her head still and kiss her, the vibration of her soft, pleased sounds too good to pass up. “Take it slow, we’ll get there.”

Clarke shivers and kisses him back, her panting slowing as Bellamy runs a hand down her spine, trying to soothe her, trying to reassure her they can make this last. Clarke drops her face into his neck, mouthing along the tendon in his shoulder, just wet heat and a hint of teeth. 

“I’ve wanted you,” she says against his skin. ”So much.” It could sound melancholy, Bellamy thinks, but Clarke’s voice is so content, so peaceful that it just sounds like another one of her secrets: happiness, desire, and now love. 

“You have me,” Bellamy says as he teases his fingers into the dip of her lower back, right above her ass, making Clarke bite down on him, squeaking a bit and Bellamy can’t stand how good she sounds. He kisses her cheekbone, her ear and and fucks up into her so that Clarke’s hands slip against her back as she tries to grip him. “Now let’s see if we can’t make you come again, huh?”

Clarke’s agreement gets caught in her throat when Bellamy wraps his arm around her lower back and really fucks up into her. She doesn’t have any leverage to brace against him, so each thrust pushes deep, knocks a helpless noise from Clarke which she muffles against Bellamy’s cheek, one hand gripping his hair and the other squeezing his neck, pressing into his shoulders and down the column of his spine like she wants to feel him all at once. They’re both slick with sweat, with Clarke wet and messy and flush against him and Bellamy needs it. Needs her to come. He gets his hand between their bodies and braces his hand against her cunt, not a lot of finesse, but knowing each time his cock fucks into her, her clit rubs against his fingers.

“Shit, shit,” Clarke gasps, trembling. She wraps her legs around Bellamy’s back and buries her face in his shoulder again, her whimpers going high and desperate and god, Bellamy wants to see her, but he can’t bring himself to slow down. There’s a hot, rich pleasure surging through him as Clarke can’t manage more than his name, as her legs tremble and she holds onto him tighter. “Bellamy, Bellamy, god- I-.”

“You got it,” Bellamy groans. “I’m right here. I can feel how tight you are, Clarke. You can do it, I know you can.”

Clarke moans, half plea, half agreement and rocks as much as she can against him, focusing on getting friction on her clit and Bellamy bites her, can’t help himself, because it makes her grind deeper on his dick and he needs her come, needs her to now, because he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last. There’s a mind numbingly deep pleasure in fucking Clarke, in having her greedy and desperate for him in a way feeds his own pleasure, and it’s so much, so new and intimate and unlike anything else Bellamy’s come across on Earth, and it would be so easy to be selfish here and lose himself in it. 

Bellamy presses his hand up as hard as he can against her cunt and grinds down, circling, and Clarke whimpers _fuck, fuck fuck,_ into his neck and goddamn, it’s so good, her cunt gets so wet and tight, fluttering and pulsing on his cock as she comes, a high, wild sound muffled by his shoulder.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Bellamy snarls and just manages to tip her forward onto the bed so he can fuck a little deeper into her, a little harder as Clarke gasps and gasps under him, hands slipping over him, trying to pull him deeper, closer. Bellamy hides his face between her breasts as he comes, feeling his whole body shake with it and if he bites her, Clarke doesn’t seem to care, just cards her fingers into his hair and gives a full body shudder underneath him. 

The force of his orgasm leaves Bellamy’s ears ringing, and it’s disorienting and suddenly a little frightening to be so overcome by this. He realizes there’s a fine tremor going through his body and he half starts, half tries to get his bearings back, because there’s never time for distraction, never time to be selfish and warm and soft... but Clarke pets down his head, his neck and back and makes a soft, hushed sound.

“We’re okay,” she whispers. “You’re okay. I’m right here. You can just feel it.” It’s almost nonsense but Clarke’s soft voice and careful hands immediately calm him and Bellamy lets himself lean into her, body heavy and mind slow, and that’s okay.

He thinks they both drift for a while, knows he definitely does, Clarke’s soft skin and subtle scent soothing and soporific. He mouths at her as he comes back to himself, her hands still moving through his hair and across his back, and hears her soft, breathy laugh above him. “Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey.” He lifts his head and Clarke smiles at him as he props his chin on one of her breasts. He realizes how heavily he’s lying on Clarke, his cock soft and a little sticky against her thigh and he shifts self-consciously. “Am I crushing you?”

“No, you’re cuddling with me,” Clarke corrects him and something flares in Bellamy, hot and perfect because this is what he’s wanted: lazy time with Clarke, lingering intimate and sweet in their vulnerability together once their immediate wants and needs have been sated… and it’s easy. It’s so easy. Bellamy tips forward to kiss her high between her breasts and Clarke hums, scratching at his scalp. 

“Huh. I guess I am.”

“Never thought of you as a cuddler,” Clarke teases him and Bellamy laughs, keeps his lips pressed against her.

“Me neither,” he admits and rolls his head to look up at her. “But with you it’s not so bad.” 

“Yeah?” Clarke laughs a little but her eyes are so soft. “Yeah, it’s not so bad,” she echoes and squeezes his neck. 

There’s the distance boom and crackle of Raven’s fireworks, the soft movement of their ship rocking on the water, dim laughter and the occasional excited voice that passes Bellamy’s room, but they aren’t tempted away from their nest of blankets. Tomorrow brings landing and the hard work of settling into a new life, with the expected squabbles about space and building and everything else that comes with establishing something permanent. But here and now, they’re laying the final touches on their own foundations, and for once, nothing else even comes close to taking precedence. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always so appreciated!
> 
> I am on tumblr. [Come hang with me!](http://verbam.tumblr.com/)


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